- Posted March 12, 2014 by
Columbia, South Carolina
- ThoughtCrimes at the University of South Carolina
- The Curious Case of Essam al Fetori: Chapter 2 - David Kirkpatrick Source
- The Curious Case of Essam Al Fetori: Chapter 1
- Benghazi or Peyton's Place? S.C.'s Senator Lindsey Graham: "I was very heterosexual, and that's all you need to know".
- My Libyan Agenda & Why I Think that it is Important Enough for the University of South Carolina & CNN
"Smart Policing" the Columbia, SC "Knowledge Based" economy
"You've just got to do what's right," Greene told WIS, "and I was always a person—if I feel it's right, I'm going to say it, even if you disagree with it and even if it's going to hurt me—I'm going to tell you the truth. Because, in the long run, we owe it to everybody: to the citizens of Columbia and the officers working there to always do what's right, and that's what I did."
It was because of that, Greene said Former Columbia Chief of Police Randy Scott fired her.
In Columbia, South Carolina, innocent people are under attack and have nowhere to run. All layers of government have failed, from the local, to the state, even the federal level. To deny or overlook the situation any longer, even for one more day, has ceased being simply a matter of politely ignoring the awkward elephant in the room.
The level of perversion commands either absolute opposition or absolute complacency. Officer Greene has a right to be angry. So does the widow of Tom Sponseller. As well as former Columbia Chief of Police, Tandy Carter, Andre Williams and Shannon Williams and all their families, neighbors, and friends who have been wronged. Lest we beg that what happened to them should happen to us tomorrow. Most importantly we must apologize to the homeless of Columbia for allowing David Navarro to literally take food out of their mouths by stealing their donated thanksgiving turkey dinners to distribute in what has to be the pettiest form of patronage that I have seen, to the extent that it is embarrassing even to read about. Petty is as petty does and petty cash was was flying like "Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead!" making life in Columbia like an AIPAC picked box of chocolates. We always know what we are going to get. We can end this now.
We must give them what is their right: an investigation. What kind of criminals can be associated with the modus operandi that would involve concealed rooms behind rooms in benign looking utility closets? The kind that hack into your phone, your laptop, your server, and your bank account.
Our suspect, however, hacks for a living; therefore it is called tapping, or in this case splitting. Also, our suspect has proven by his ineptitude that he is above the law and has been awarded Executive Merits from the highest office in the world to prove it. More so, our suspect is the worst kind of sociopath: a crooked cop paid to be an deceptive data broker, who dabbles in peddling DARPA funded Unit 8200 Unix open-source database mining, packet sniffing death gadgets that come with their own iPhone app, and servers to boot.
These Smart Policing scams cost billions of dollars, suckering in the “client” with an initial “buy in” that then devours a City Police Department by eating itself alive with power and suspicion and corruption until it is a mere shell for and by the shadow data brokers-turned power-brokers who make arrangements for those who play ball and corresponding arrangements for those who make trouble.
There can be no trouble. In clubs like the Citadel, Air Force, the Military Industrial complex, and/or local police, it can be very dangerous to play ball, and deadly not to. The machine will always need an upgrade and always need and an analyst, even if all she does is profile poor black males into those that she has arrested and/or slept with and those she has yet to arrest, and/or sleep with. Not surprisingly the correlation between the two is systematic.
There is no longer any room for polite irrationality as we find our politicians addicted to the evils for which they break not only our laws, but laws which are higher and predate all of us, universalist codes of right and wrong, of moral and immoral, of good and evil, and most importantly, the separation of the two, for without separation, there can be no distinction.
The very real and very current Segregation of black from white in Columbia, S.C has been cloaked with such exaggerated integration that we have the audacity to call it knowledge based. How knowledgeable is it to ignore that Columbia, S.C. has nearly year round bright sunny skies? The most corrupt of all weave hydrogen fuel cell, biodiesel, dried Camel dung, and a cheap Agile Power Point slides while being paid by SCANA to criminalize residential solar panels.
Hundreds and Hundred of Billions of Hospitality tax extortion dollars are laundered through companies that either exist on paper only, or “tech” companies whose innovation includes how to destroy the U.S. Constitution, not to mention the world, as fronts for DARPA or Unit 8200.
Corporations like CNA and Harris Computing are now using the Black citizens of Columbia as lab rats in authoritarian surveillance experiments labeled under the guise of “Smart Policing”. These amount to designating and area a “hot spot”, then finding crimes to fit them, even if it means creating crime, as in 5 Points, while somehow, because a computer is used, it is call “evidence based”, for a lack thereof no doubt, like another great authoritarian meme, “Patriot Act”.
The militarization of the City of Columbia Police Department should show anyone who can see a solar powered sun that these experiments will not end well. At least not for the poor, the Black, the dissenters, or anyone who attempts an audit of one single unaccountable billion exacted from the flesh of Columbia taxpayers.
It will be a war that the poor, the Black and the dissenters of Columbia will be the first to feel. The militarized Columbia police must be acknowledged. They must be curtailed. If the Federal government feels compelled to purge its weapons of war and population control for any purpose other than the preparing Ruben Santiago for martial law, Columbia will gladly take whatever is metal. With enough scrap metal, we could perhaps build a whole metro before those in power allow those who toil to keep them in power, the Black community, luxuries such as public transportation.
I am a white southern male, born and raised in Columbia, SC with 5 generations of family that have lived, as I do now, and have died, as I can only hope to, within and just outside of Columbia city limits. The House family of Lexington County is heritage.
The symbol of hate, of oppression, of Ben Tillman of Nathanial Bedford Forrest, of Albert Pike and all those who control the strings of Columbia’s Marionette City Council Theatre, with performances of agonizing over the Morals and Dogmas of our city, it is a tired performance of sad yet ruthless desperation and addiction to power.
I cannot ignore how, after billions spent on concept studies, Columbia City council secretly, and in the most closed of bids, selected the preselected English Socialist 3rd Universal model of Fascist “Smart Policing.” R. Buckminister Fuller would not approve, thought Pike would be quite pleased. Your flag is a bloody rag that shames our fathers and their fathers and all before them.
I refuse not only to believe the lies; I refuse to sit quietly, complacently, while they are fed to others under the guise of truth. If my real Southern Heritage is symbolized in the Battle Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, or “Confederate Flag”, where is my Plantation? Where is my Ole Southern Home? Where is my Tara, my Millwood ruins? We were slaves ourselves, and the worst in us was fooled into fighting a rich man’s war, not even because it was of our choosing, but because the sanctity of our home had been desecrated by invaders, occupiers, who tried to dictate to us our own thoughts and burned plantations that were not even ours, yet we were implanted with a need for vengeance and a lesser “other” so that the fallacy of logic could exist that poor white sharecrops actually gave a damn about slavery other than from a need for someone to feel superior to in our own misery. The banality of humanity does not make us human. It takes away from it.
My family, every generation, were poor white sharecroppers. And I could not be more proud. My Heritage is a history that has been distorted and rewritten for and by the same elite 1% who have profited from the evolution of Slavery. The truth is that there were not enough poor white sharecroppers, slaves to the land and the company store, to die as aristocratic fodder, or at least, not enough to win. The Union had more, as the factories gnawed bone and flesh like a tech cotton savvy mill. We were no match.
We were the 99% that did not own slaves, for we were slaves ourselves. Our slavery, our chains, were simply a more indentured, cloaked form of slavery, “servitude”, for the sharecroppers and mill workers who are my heritage were slaves of debt to the same master and same overseer in the same company store. Today it is the cash advance - tile loans. The extended stay. The lottery whose very name desperately tries to cloak what it clearly is: a poor tax, and more often than not a poor Black tax. But it is, in fact, a colorblind tax. It is a Black poor tax only because we refuse to admit that we all suffer, whether it is our own money or society that is wasted.
Do not mistake or let them spin the reality of Black Columbians bearing the burden of systematic vice devised to ensure that the true worth of their ethnic capital is never realized. A worker for USC once threatened me with a brick when I spastically refused to relent in my questioning of where he was taking the ethnic capital of Black Columbia, of South Carolina. I was afraid it would be thrown away. This worker thought he was just replacing old bricks, worn, chipped, grooved and smoothed with the age of a painful past
He was simply a landscaper laying nice new corporate sponsored bricks that now fan the historic USC Horseshoe, many being “donations” from tax breaks as tax breaks. For someone who refuses to deny the history, each old brick which the worker removed was priceless, like the gold bullion of Black capital, for it was by the bleeding hands and broken backs of Black men enslaved as slaves and now slaves to a false history of romanticized slavery that the very bricks of the USC Horseshoe were laid.
Instead of thinking in terms of good and evil, we have been deceived into thinking, acting, and speaking, only in terms of Black or White, a self-perpetuating otherness, while the only shades of grey to which we are not blind consist entirely of two classes, according to our elected officials at least, those with feathers or those with dots. Yet the saddest part of all is that such uneducated, racist drivel is perpetuated, even by its victims, in an pathetic belief that colluding with that same evil somehow deflects it, tricks it, makes it somehow less savage by constructing still another other whose fabricated inequity will be inherently exponential as one lie necessitates another.
It is the banality of human nature that we can only tolerate such victimization by mirroring our misery; passing the bigoted buck onto another victim, yet scream with such irrational terror from conjured threats that we have, with great certainty, created for our own morbid and economic amusement.
We will find that USC is not only home to America’s first political scientist, Liber, it is also home to the very man who would corrupt the sanctity of the American home, setting precedent for the surveillance state that has corrupted not only the Leiber code, not only the 4th, and 1st, but every single other U.S. Constitutionally mandated right. America and our laws once meant something other than being terrified into blind, illegal, immoral, and unending wars.
The man who once defiled the sanctity of the American home by stealing the trashcan of an American citizen from his American driveway, this same evil lurks in the shadows of Columbia as his exponentially imbalanced brain has conjured, has constructed, so great an enemy, that he no longer digs through used tampons for scrapes of post-it notes. So great was the power he achieved and so easily was he able to dismiss any protests, that he has even brainwashed himself in a lethal blowback whereby he proffers from the expertise in the very misery which he constructed.
So expertly did he harnessed all the evil in himself that his conjured, fabricated enemy has torn to shreds the societal fabric of America. No one spoke up to stop him at your driveway and now he coaches others right into your most private, intimate, personal thoughts.
Today, Leslie Wiser deals in digital waste, as he helps himself, and absolutely anyone else that will pay, to not only your computer’s recycle bin but also to the thoughts which may not even be known to you, about thoughts you have yet to have, for he records them, stores them, and sells them in real time as you Google the information to construct your own thoughts and opinions. It Leslie Wiser who decides whether your thoughts make you a profitable customer or a profitable terrorist, or both as those who stop buying become enemies of the State.
Mayor Steven Benjamin has broken the very laws that separate human beings from animals. Mayor Steven Benjamin is not only void of intellectual or tactical qualifications; he is an empty shell, void of humanity. In His proposals, his schemes, we will find that the only feelings in his body are addictions to money, power, lust, and the unabashed prostitution of himself and Columbia to anyone and everyone who promises to secure these for him.
In not addressing the problem, in ignoring one law, one life, we have laid waste to the objective truth, the reality that once protected us all. It has now become dangerous to speak the truth; for we have been forced into a Twilight Zone of conjured truths where people in power have only one requirement to maintain the status quo:
Memories must be short, for the best memories are the shortest memories for they need only be capable of remembering fear and hate, as a scared customer is always a happy customer, just as hindsight is always 20/20 and slavery always “wasn’t that bad”.
To remember the debate between City Council and Steve Benjamim over who could access a crime scene is to admit to yourself and Ruben Santiago that you are no idiot and you refuse to be taken as one.
One innocent woman’s life was ruined forever one early Columbia morning and we became accessories to a crime and our own oppressors when we allowed the criminals to investigate themselves. The poor, poor woman, Deborah Rubens, never even saw him, the evil, flying at top speed at her in his luxury sedan. I think he hated her because she refused to be at the mercy of his merciless excuse for a bus system. How dare she.
It was the evil that we can ignore no longer, and he was invisible because it was only technically morning, still dark as night, when Mayor-Elect Steven Benjamin, after an all night binge following his victory party at the Clarion Townhouse hotel, was so impaired in his driving, in his decision making capability, that he did not have his headlights on while recklessly driving nearly 100 miles per hour though my, our, downtown Columbia.
He broke her skull and we break it over and over again every day we ignore that initial crime, for it was a singular genocide that we have exacerbated through complacent denial that has eroded our fabric of life. That poor woman could not defend herself, nor seek justice against her attacker. Those that investigated such criminal acts of high power found themselves victims of their own mockery of justice as Columbia City Hall and the Columbia Police station became a den of lies, suspicion, extortion, and sexual depravity.
It is that nihilist depravity which right now, under our watch, yet under our noses, that now takes the form of “consultants” who are allowed, encouraged, to masquerade as teachers and professors at the University of South Carolina and “analysts” or “community resource officers” at the Columbia Police Department, all of whom spend their days surrounded by vulnerable, impressionable people. There are people who wish to combine Richland County and the City of Columbia police and for them, they must approve, as did Sheriff Leon Lott, of their officers arresting drunken distraught girls who are not resisting arrest, but resisting rape and the predation of authority.
What if no video existed of the demented molestation that took place that night on Devine Street in Buffalo Wild Wings? The officer, Allen Derrick, broke both written and unwritten laws with such disgusting acuity, yet for Leon Lott, this was justice to those who dared resist the penetration of usurped and absolute authority. So sure, he will be happy to take over a few more promising social deviants in the CPD.
There are now not only innocent careers being ruined by corruption, not only livelihoods, but even human lives; those lives who dare express dissent are worthless to those sworn to protect and/or represent them.
Columbia, South Carolina, and America as a whole has reached a breaking point that is as evident at City Hall as it is on Capital Hill. Elected and appointed officials, having long since blurred any distinction between the two, have sold their positions of office in the same Faustian bargain which promises that position, and to secure it, in exchange for keeping power out of the hands of Black South Carolinians by keeping them poor, uneducated, and feeling like strangers in their own home.
This is not a battle that we can ignore, for it is a war not of our choosing. The people, leaders, the officials, we are in a state of undeclared war of both information and bullets. The City of Columbia Police Department, Columbia City Council, City management, and even the University of South Carolina and USCPD, brought back Jim Crowe 3.0 as a database that redlines by default, whose hate and fear is written in code that perpetuates an anachronistic ghost in the machine.
Today, the cameras in 5 Points save the modern slave trader from having to look in the mouth of a Black man to decide how much that much that life is worth. Thermal imaging technology can capture by the megapixel the inhumanity of stripping and prodding of the selling block, whereby Ruben Santiago decides who is of the field and who is of the house. Alvin S. Glenn Detention Center is 100% young black males, not because they are a threat, but because they are young, black, and male. We do not have to live like this.
The SC hospitality tax is a front to fund one elite white minority in keeping capital out of the hands of the black majority. Whether wars or Innovistas, bad investments are bad only to those who pay their costs.
There are millions and billions and billions to fund studies, research groups, pyramid schemes, and publicly funded-privately profited speculation bubbles, though never a dime for a bus system so spitefully pitiful that every single soul in Columbia should be deeply shamed.
I have watched my fellow citizens, fellow human being, shuffled from forgotten cinder block projects, to decaying cinder block schools, to cinder block prison cells. Columbia’s Hospitality tax is cruel and racist joke that provides billions and billions in a twisted, demented scam, running in circles trying to ignore the anachronistic black hole that waves as a sign to Black America, to Black South Carolinians, that they are not welcome nor wanted, nor even acknowledged. We do not have to live like this.
I owe everything that I have, everything that I am, to Columbia, SC. It is for this reason that I am compelled to stand, even if alone, against those who have ravaged the generous hospitality and gambled the very future of my city, of your city, of our Columbia. There is an ominous cloud of deceit, corruption, hate, and betrayal that has darkened our city with ingrained, systematic, and insatiable greed.
As of late, this precipice has achieved critical mass, whereby we now risk loosing everything for absolutely nothing, as the parasitic nature of what we are facing only disengages when it’s host is void of not only resources, but void of the humanity which allows for life even without resources.
The city of Columbia is under attack by Columba City Council and it’s gang those who wish to take for themselves from Columbia what can only be had though the decimation those among us who have an obligation to protect, either by oath or by birth, our city, and all those who call it home.
We do not have to live like this and I refuse to allow incompetent, criminal officials, their collaborating media, and business interests to say otherwise, for what they offer, what they push, is a carefully constructed and controlled narrative that defies reality, yet is so elaborate, the fallacies can be cloaked again and again, until they are revealed at last, in the final stages of financial and moral default.
I know that Mayor Steve Benjamin is corrupt and void of morals, not because of opinions I hold, but of facts I do not ignore. Mayer Benjamin has absolutely no shame. It is as if his body has a physical dependence on pillaging Columbia’s Water and Sewer fund, the Hospitality tax and even the City of Columbia worker’s retirement fund. He shows no concern for the welfare of Columbia, as he maliciously, even spitefully, formulates outlandish schemes and suspicious policies that destroy any chance for its workers or citizens to be secure in their eventual vulnerability.
Two months ago, the street, literally the road, in front of my restaurant collapsed, just gave way, buckling like a third world warzone or the result of some natural disaster in a distant land where starving people and structural collapses are expected of cruel and indifferent government officials. I half expected the City of Columbia Police Department to come steaming though like Patton in their U.N. convoy, tossing out bags of rice for Palmetto warlords to form over.
As Beltline Boulevard disintegrated, crumbling under it’s own weight, the criminally neglected water and sewer system was finally exposed, both literally and figuratively. Even then, what should have been a rational choice, fixing the road, was simply ignored. Because the city no longer has it’s own road crew, a gaping hole became a gaping wound as the bureaucratic psycho circus of collecting bids on the project subsumed any actual work.
Residents of the surrounding Sherwood Forest area could be forgiven for thinking that their government had not only forgotten about them, but knew quite well and simply did not even care, as no effort or consideration was extended to the the welfare of residents whether by informing them of the project timeline OR EVEN have the common decency to let residents know whether if was safe to drink the water coming out of their own facet.
A water boil advisory was issued for the first hour, then no information was offered for the next 2 months. I did not know whether if was safe to serve my customers any more than parents across the street knew if they were bathing their children in city water contaminated with sewage.
If felt so sorry for all of my neighbors, many elderly, as I observed them go back and forth during construction, looking for a way just to get home though the sprawled and expansive disaster area that peaked in confusion at morning and evening rush hours. Hourly, the same cars went back and forth, forced to navigate the disorganized and sloppily chaotic ad hoc worksite left nightly by road contractors, exacerbated with unnecessary confusion and the unavoidable knowledge that a small problem had been allowed to manifest into an almost unbearable daily, hourly, inconvenience.
On one corner, I was reminded of my home away from home, Benghazi, when a resident, recognizing the absence of government, took matters into his own hands, resulting a thoughtfully simple handwritten sign, taped to a chair, graciously informing drivers which routes were accessible and which were not. Where it merely confusion and/or only inconvenience which residents suffered, the handwritten signage would have been a nice gesture. The reality is direr and demands accountability, for the sign was not about the convenience of drivers, but solely for the safety of the neighborhood children.
I find it unfathomable, unthinkable, and irreprehensible, that City officials could not even extend the decency of facilitating a detour route through the construction, leaving the our children to mowed over by distracted and frustrated drivers who used our streets and yards to bypass the mess for weeks before work even began.
Weeks and weeks went by before work even began.
My business, Sammi’s Deli was forced to close, as were all others, including Lizard’s Thicket, and Dollar General. and upon reopening, the slow crawl of the work closed the road resulting in sales figures that were unsustainable.
Had the road been closed another week, it may have broken me. The pillaging of the Water and Sewer fund, and its direct consequences, affect not only my own business and livelihood, but Mayor Benjamin’s criminal greed and nefarious neglect directly put in jeopardy the welfare of my workers. Though it was costly, I did not lose my house or car. For at least two of my employees, however, those two days, which they could not work, meant that they had no gas to get to work once the initial chaos had subsided.
These are realities which Steve Benjamin, Ruben Santiago, and Leslie Wiser know absolutely nothing about, for these are not constructed and have no agenda, no sponsor, no shadow executive board. It is simply the achievement of Total Information Awareness through the recognition that there is no such thing as Total Information Awareness and, above all, that anytime anyone claims or seeks Total Information Awareness, they seek and claim the omnipotence of God. As this is hardly something that can hardly come with a written guarantee, I cannot support it as a concerned taxpayer, nor as a human being.